The
comments I heard did not make for calm, even as the three resumed
circulating in the privy. I transferred my small copy of the 'map'
to one of the large covered slates while waiting for Karl and Sepp,
and when they finally came – yawning, sleepy, and fatigued – I
asked, “any luck?”

“Sepp
found the big refectory,” said Karl, “and it is open.”

“Food?”
I asked.

“It is
close to home that way,” said Sepp, “though I wonder about some
things, especially how they were talking of the other one.”

“Other
one?” I asked. “As in another refectory?”

“They
said someone was killed there tonight,” said Karl. “Do you know
about it?”

“Uh, not
really,” I said. “I wasn't there when it happened, as they tried
to pass off a lot of bad food in there, and I had to run for the
privy.”

“Were
there squabs?” asked Sepp.

“Those,
penned quolls, and much else,” said Gabriel between yawns, “and
after they began fighting in there, I decided I wanted no part of
such surroundings – and since, I've decided I want no part of that
food, either.”

“Why?”
asked Karl. “That food is really expensive and hard to get.”

“It also
causes corking,” said Lukas. “Now we all had best get to bed,
those of us who can, as we got plenty to do tomorrow about this and
that.”

“We
aren't in that meeting,” said Karl, “so what do we have to do?”

“Supplies,
for one,” said Hendrik. “I'm still corked with that food, and
I'm on my third mug of uncorking medicine.”

“Two jugs
uncorking medicine,” I thought. “One for while we're here, and,
uh, one for the road.”

“Road?”
I squeaked. “How long does it take to get, uh, those things out?”

“Then we
may want to get what we can as soon as we can,” I said.
“Perhaps...” I paused, then asked, “when do places open up in
that town?”

“Shortly
after sunrise,” said Lukas, between stifled yawns, “which means
we need to leave the instant it gets light enough to not get shot for
witches, and carry those good lanterns with us while we roll the
wheels.”

“Do we
need to, uh, take the buggies?” I asked. “We need to take
most if not all of the horses, and I suspect we can, uh, bag up...”

“Now I
know you would do as a freighter,” said Gilbertus. “Most of what
we have can fit in those bags we use for clothing, and mine is out of
clean clothing.”

“Hence
washing,” I said. “That means...”

“I can
find that, yawn,” said Gabriel, “and I suspect we can find the
baths, too.” A brief pause, then “and I'm glad for beds.”

I was more
than glad for a bed myself, and I fell deeply asleep once I'd had a
small cup of dark beer. There were no dreams that night, even when I
awoke to use the privy, and when I went in one portion of the
'two-holer', I could tell the other part was in use.

“Who's
there?” I asked, as I came out.

“Gabriel,”
said a very sleepy voice. “The corks are finally starting to come
out.”

“The
others?” I asked.

“Theirs
also,” said Gabriel. “I'd get plenty of uncorking medicine
tomorrow, as these corks seem stubborn.”

I awoke to
deep-black darkness lit but faintly to the rear, and when I turned I
saw one of the smaller candle-lanterns glowing faintly by the door of
the privy. I could tell that not merely was that edifice still
receiving regular attention, but also it was shortly before sunrise.
I put on my clothing, then stoked one of the larger lanterns and lit
the thing with the candle near the privy. As I brought it to the
table, I could feel something happening above our heads, and listened
carefully, even as the front of the room became better-lit.

“That's
chanting,” I muttered. “I cannot make out what they're
chanting, and they're completely trashed, but some people are
chanting.”

“What is
this?” said Sepp from behind me. “Is it time to get up?”

“It
'feels' like it,” I said. “It's about half an hour or so before
it starts to get light around here, which means about three or four
hours before that meeting is supposed to start.”

I sat down
by the lantern making out my 'updated' list, then as I finished it,
shadows came from behind. I turned to see Karl trying not to yawn
and having no luck whatsoever.

“We can
get food...”

“No,
Karl,” said Sepp. “Grab some dried meat and a Kuchen, along with
some beer, and then get that big pack. We're going to need those
things to get our supplies.”

“What
about you?” asked Karl.

“I
brought my bread-bags,” said Sepp, “and this other big one I
didn't know I had, and I suspect we can get some more larger ones at
those Mercantiles.”

“That,
and we'll need to bring the horses by that one farrier,” I said.
“That makes for a decent trip, actually, so much so that we may
want to split up.”

“If you
plan that, then the earlier the better,” said Lukas. “The three
of 'em were up all night spending time in the privy.”

“Then
they can secure some plates for us,” I said softly.

“I'll do
that,” said Hendrik, as he wobbled toward the privy.

I opened
the door with a covered student's lantern, then beckoned to the
others to come out. We drew up into a small group as I led the way
to the main 'corridor', and from thence, to the stairs. Again, I
paused at the doorway, and was astonished to see a sky still dark and
showing stars.

Opening the
door a crack made for wondering, as I could clearly hear voices, and
when I came outside, I crouched in the darkness next to the wall. To
my right on the walkway were a trio of guards, all of them with
'huge' tankards and slung muskets, and the flickering candles
overhead shed a dim and ruddy light. I came to the edge of the
walkway, then walked slowly and silently up to the three men. They
seemed embroiled in gossip, so much so that when I slipped behind
them, I could almost hear laughter from the doorway. I then gently
touched the shoulder of the man furthest to the south.

He looked
my way and nearly dropped his tankard, then spluttered, “who are
you?”

I was about
to reply when his 'fellows' turned, then remarked, “oh, it's one of
them from the first kingdom.” He looked me up and down as he
spoke, then asked, “now who are you? I know you aren't one of the
commons, but you don't look like one of the betters, either.”

The third
man looked at me carefully, then muttered, “I would not go by
looks, especially with him. Talk has it he's done more than
most can think of.”

“Such
as?” I asked.

“Didn't
you lead that group down here?”

“I was
with that group, yes,” I said. “I am not sure I led it.”

“Were you
front and left?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Then you
led it,” he said. “Talk has it you were in that meeting
yesterday.”

“After I
took care of some important business in town,” I said. “And,
speaking of business in town – when do those gates open?”

“As soon
as the sun shows,” said the first man. “Why, what is it you
need?”

“Supplies
for traveling,” I said, as I drew out my slate and showed the man
who'd asked. “Herring, dried vegetables, 'cooking supplies', soap,
'number one wax candles', and uncorking medicine.”

“How will
you carry those?” he asked.

“We need
to have all of the horses looked over at a farrier's,” I said, “and
hence, we have enough to either carry the supplies or tie bags...”

“That's
like them out traipsing,” said the second man. “They do things
like that, as they go where buggies can't.”

“Exactly,”
I said. “Besides, we need, to, uh, do some modest repairs
to our buggies before we go further south.”

“What
would those be?” asked the third man.

“I'm not
terribly sure,” I said. “Mostly, I need to go over everything
carefully, and then I'll know for certain.”

“If you
are leading that group,” said the first man, “then why don't
you...”

“Had they
a third of the common number,” said the second man, “he could do
that, presuming he trusted anyone to do that work. They only have
eight, and unless I miss my guess, there are only two or three that
are worthy of trust, even with close watching.”

I smiled,
shook my head, and began walking back the way I had come.

“Where
are you going?” asked one of the men

“Back to
fetch the others,” I said. “I did not wish to take chances.”

While the
others fetched their horses, I fluffed out Jaak's blanket, then laid
it on one of the buggies. I examined the cones, noting but small
areas of 'dullness'. The lantern was out in the field, and when I
turned to the west, I noted traces of lighter blue which was
beginning to wash out the stars, and I recalled what the farrier had
said.

“May the
stars shine on you wherever you go?” I asked. It seemed to fit.

Tethering
the horses in line with the four of us in front made for a long
'string', and once out in front of the house, I led to the south. I
wanted to follow that road we had gone in by, for I had seen it join
the other, and at a steady walk, I looked out over the darkness.

The pylons
seemed lit by ghostly phosphorescence, while the grape-arbors seemed
conjoined into fields of death. Lukas was behind me with the
shielded lantern, while the others were towing strings of three and
four horses. I hoped we could do what was needed in time, and I had
a sense that...

“Arriving
at the moment of the gates opening is an old trick of independent
freighters,” said the soft voice, “which is why those Mercantiles
and that Public House will be open when you get there. There won't
be significant traffic out in the streets until 'the third hour' of
the morning.”

“Which
is?” I asked.

“About
four hours from now,” said the soft voice. “You will not need to
split up to save time in a 'dead' city.”

Once on the
east-running road, we sped up slightly. I wondered about
horse-grain, and added it to my slate, then also 'whatever else that
looks likely'.

With each
minute, the road ahead became steadily more distinct, and the light
from behind became greater. A quick turn showed a perceptible blue
behind and a midnight blue ahead of us. I looked closely at the
still-distant town and saw what might have been thin columns of smoke
and flame.

“The
witches were out last night,” murmured Lukas. “I see those
fires.”

“Do they
start fires?” I asked.

“They
might, but it's usually those coaches,” said Lukas. “Those things
are said to burn well, and...”

“You mean
explode,” said Sepp. “I've heard enough talk...”

“Who was
doing this talking?” asked Gilbertus.

“Hans,”
said Sepp. “He saw two of those things go up, and that in the last
few months.”

The town
ahead felt truly 'dead', and as we came up the road toward its gates,
I 'felt' someone – or something – off to the right some
distance away. It was moving at a steady pace, neither hurrying nor
wasting time, and its goal was not the city ahead of us, but rather a
location further to the north. Most importantly, it needed to be out
of this particular area before the locals 'woke up'.

“It isn't
a witch,” I thought, “as those people aren't active at this time
of day.”

“Precisely
why this time is best for what you need to do,” said the soft
voice, “and migrants from El Vallyé
have need of caution when moving.”

“Uh,
travel at night and sleep during the day?” I asked.

“Much
like those marked, and for much the same reasons,” said the soft
voice.

Before the
gates themselves were a pair of pack-horses with 'drovers' sitting
beside them, and I gave these men a wide berth. They looked to be
asleep, for some reason, even as the air around us began to lighten
markedly. Noises ahead of us spoke of someone 'waking up' in one or
the other of the two 'gate-shops'. I wondered who it might be until
someone looked over the gate proper for a moment, then began dragging
one of the 'leaves' open.

The effect
of this noise upon the 'drovers' was astonishing, for both of them
shook and woke up, then stood. They began walking forward with their
horses by the time the gate was entirely open, and I led off in their
wake.

The sense
of 'dead' in the town redoubled, even as we cleared the 'gate-shops',
and our steady progress afterward left the drovers behind. I
sniffed, and shuddered at the smells that now seemed endemic, smells
I had not noticed yesterday.

“That
stuff is forty-chain brandy,” said Lukas, “and someone got
deworming medicine, and I smell a lot of bad food around here.”

“Where?”
asked Karl. He was riding further back.

“Over
there,” said Lukas. “See, someone tossed that expensive rubbish
in the ditch.”

Amid mounds
of gray-green mess to the left I saw what looked like a new tin plate
covered with 'gourmet food', and the mingled reek of food and dung
was enough to churn my stomach violently. Jaak moved further away
from it once I'd learned what it was.

“Aye, and
a mule-trace,” said Gilbertus. “That would be those
black-dressed people.”

A broken
wheel showed on the right but a short distance further, as well as a
sizable smelly place nearby – it was thick with the leavings of
mules – and when I looked to the right at the nearest intersection,
I saw a faintly billowing fire sending smoke into the air. It might
have been half a mile off, if that.

“What is
burning out that way?” I asked.

“Most
likely a coach,” said Lukas.

“And not
wise to speak of witches in a city they own,” I thought.
“No wonder this place feels like the Swartsburg.”

The first
Mercantile showed shortly thereafter, and here, I wondered as to what
was best. Lukas seemed to know his way around the place as if he'd
lived here, while Gilbertus was but little less 'knowledgeable'. In
contrast, if I was forced to do things conventionally...

“Now what
do I do?” I asked softly.

“You
might mind the horses,” said Karl. “Those two gaffers might be
shopkeepers for what they know, and you can tell if there is
trouble.”

“And
you?” I asked.

“We can
carry things,” said Sepp. “I know you do not bargain.”

“I tend
to get certain things in Mercantiles,” I said, as I recalled some
of what I'd purchased. “About the only thing edible...” I
paused, then spat, “that other Mercantile sells greens!”

“Good,”
said Sepp. “I could stand more potatoes and carrots.”

“Rodents,”
murmured Karl, as he followed Sepp into the Mercantile. “Everyone
is turning into a rodent.”

I waited
for what seemed a handful of minutes, then heard steps coming out.
The four men either had sizable bags or bulging 'packs', and after
two of the bags were tied firmly into place on the backs of horses,
they remounted. I led off toward the Public House with a question
that escaped from my mouth but seconds later.

“Did
you..?”

“Everything
except the dried vegetables,” said Lukas. “I knew about those,
but him telling me about the fresh ones decided me. Now what do they
have?”

“Much of
what is common at home, as well, as, uh, some really strange
things.”

“And what
are those?” asked Lukas.

“These,
uh, round yellowish things that are grown in the fourth kingdom,” I
said, “then some of these long green things that look like weeds of
some kind. They're like Gobens for flavor, if not much else. Then,
fresh Gobens, spices...”

“That
sounds good,” said Lukas. “We'll want to lay in as much as we
can, as between here and the fourth kingdom sounds like a bad place
for food.”

“Uh, that
place ahead dries a fair amount of vegetables,” I said, “and they
dry them daily, so they're...”

“Those
are what you want if fresh is not to be had,” said Gilbertus.
“They taste decent if steamed.”

“St-steamed?”
I asked.

“I found
a wire-basket in that place,” said Lukas, “but it was done badly,
and they wanted thrice what it was worth.”

“And the
place ahead?” I asked. “Something about a...”

“I think
you might go in for that one,” said Lukas. “I might do the
things at the counter easy enough, but I'm lost finding things.”

Karl
stayed outside at the Public House, and here, I went inside in his
stead. He had a full mug of beer and was working on draining it
between munching dried meat.

The Public House was remarkably
similar to the one at home for decor, even if its size dwarfed that
place, and the musty smell of bad tallow candles was melded with that
of several varieties of fermented wine. I smelled what might have
been Geneva at one of the tables as we passed it by, and at the rear
counter, Lukas asked for the food.

“Oh, that
dried meat,” I said. “This type is best for cooking.”

The 'publican' looked at me, then
said, “we ran out of pepper when we did that batch.”

“Jochen
put too much salt to it, too,” shouted a woman further back in the
'kitchen'.

“That's
fine,” said Lukas. “We can use it for cooking. How much...”

I left that portion off, and looked
around as Lukas finished 'dealing'. When I turned again toward the
'counter', I was handed a sizable bag. The smell in my hands spoke
of bread.

“Those
are some of his loaves from yesterday,” said Lukas. “He's still
stoking his ovens.”

“Hot
bread will be handy back at the house,” I murmured, “and we'll
want to stow that when and where we can just before we leave.”

The next Mercantile was also an
adventure, for here both Karl and Sepp remained outdoors setting on
the stoop with a jug of beer between them. Their obvious dehydration
made for wondering on my part until I glanced at the surly red disk
of the sun as it poked its way up past the horizon.

“Hot
weather,” murmured Sepp, as he pointed to the reddish glow. “I'll
want to soak as much as I can.”

“Hot
weather?” I asked, once inside the Mercantile and its mingled
myriad odors.

“For
here, that isn't hot,” said Lukas. “Sun showing like that at
home, though – you don't want to be outside then.”

“Uh,
heat?”

“That
especially,” he said. “I've been looking for another hat, as that
one's about fit for making paper, and no mistake.”

“And no
such hats worth buying have showed,” said Gilbertus. “You might
chase those dried vegetables and those other things.”

I went 'in search' of the things
mentioned with Gilbertus in tow, while Lukas went toward the rear
counter. While I felt hesitant at times in regards to what I was
looking for, when I found the room with the fresh vegetables,
Gilbertus whistled.

“It would
have taken me twice the time. Now can you find the good ones?”

I
proved something of a failure once I'd actually found the articles in
question, for the first three potatoes I picked up Gilbertus tossed
back on the pile after speaking of 'bad odor'. I handed him a fourth
one, and he exclaimed, “now what is a seeded potato doing in
a pile of eaters?”

“Seeded?”
I asked.

He held up the thing, and in this
instance, the lumpy exterior was a marvel. It looked like a domestic
potato with a severe case of hives.

“Those
are the seeds,” said Gilbertus as he pointed to the lumps. “Were
I a potato farmer, I'd keep this one in my barn as a reminder of what
and when to plant.”

Gilbertus knew his potatoes much
better than I did, and while I could find the things in question
quickly, he had to pick out the examples that were 'good'. I then
led out of the main 'root and vegetable' area, and went straight to
the dried vegetables. These were bagged, and here, Gilbertus was
lost completely. The bags concealed their contents well.

I wondered if I were in the same
predicament as previously when I touched the first bag. It felt
'cold' and 'clammy', and I went for another. It felt much the same.
The third one, however, felt 'fresh' and 'dry', and I removed it.

“I hope
that one's good,” he said. “I've heard about this stuff.”

I found five more such bags, and gave
them to him, then looked over toward the other side of the store.

“What's
over there?” he asked.

“S-soap,
candles...”

“We have
plenty,” said Gilbertus. “Now what is this stuff here?”

Gilbertus
had found something that reminded me vaguely of 'hardtack' as
described by Civil War chroniclers, and touching the
dessicated-seeming 'bricks' made me wonder.

“Didn't
they call these things 'teeth-dullers'?” I thought. “They do
look likely.”

Gilbertus swept up a tied bundle of
the 'stuff', saying they were better than 'worms', and while I agreed
whole-heartedly, I wondered what kind of worms he meant.

“Are
there worms people eat?” I asked.

“Aye, in
the third kingdom,” he said. “I've had them, and needed
uncorking medicine afterward to clear out the corks they left
behind.”

“Did we
get some?” I asked.

“Aye, two
big jugs full,” said Gilbertus. “Now someone said we needed a
jug for the road, so I made certain that one was a good sturdy jug.”

Lukas had been busy while we'd been
'away', and he'd secured another 'small' cooking pot as well as a
wire basket. While his description was 'common' – Anna described
the smallest one she'd had before I came that way – it was easily
larger than my 'large' cooking pot.

“That
will shield one of those jugs,” he said, as we came out burdened
with three sizable cloth bags. “If we must cook our meals, we want
another larger pot for washing and meat.”

“Meat?”

“Cold
water twice, then salt so it keeps,” said Lukas. “I bought a
decent-sized bag of salt, though that stuff Sepp brought is better
for cooking.”

“Aye, and
to the taste,” said Gilbertus. “That common stuff tastes like
like fifth kingdom axle grease if one's used to the good stuff.”

Tying down the bags took but minutes,
and I led off again toward the farrier. I felt the urge to hurry,
for some reason, as if the thugs nearby were plotting an early
rising, and when I heard first one echoing explosion, then another, I
flinched violently.

“That was
a fowling piece,” said Lukas. “I hope that wretch got his.”

“Uh,
why?” I asked.

“I seem
to smell witches in this place,” said Lukas as he came up beside
me, “and I saw some pointed boots in that last Mercantile.”

“Where?”
I asked.

“They
were next to a wall behind the counter,” he said, “and the heel
of one of 'em was bloody. That's as sure a sign of witches as
anything short of seeing one of them handy.”

“Uh,
somewhere on this road I saw someone use a roer on one of those
black-dressed thugs.”

“Did it
get to that witch?” asked Lukas.

“That
thug went down and didn't move,” I said, “and the same for the
person shooting him.”

“That's
about right for roers,” said Lukas. “Now that farrier's place is
up ahead, but one wants to be tricky about getting there if it's the
usual time of day.”

“Tricky?”
I asked.

“Don't
turn direct onto his road, but pick one a few streets early, so's you
can dodge this bad section,” said Lukas. “It might be possible
to not need to do that now, as it's still quiet.”

“I think
I might have done that when I found him,” I said. “I don't hear
anything up ahead. It sounds like everyone got into the fermented
kerosene last night and is still asleep.”

“Now what
is this k-k-stuff?” asked Lukas. “I cannot say that word.”

“A form
of distillate,” I said. “It's like heavy distillate, except
lighter in color, a good deal thinner, less hazardous to use, and
much less smelly.”

“Is it
boiled?” he asked. “I'm glad for that boiled stuff, as it works
good for keeping rust down.”

“I'm not
certain if it's 'boiled',” I said. “Boiled distillate is closer
to a light oil where I came from, and that 'oil' used on the buggies
would be considered a common lubricant for consistency.”

I went past the place where I had
turned the day before, and continued on until 'the street of the
farrier' showed. Again, the entire absence of road-signs made me
wonder why the only place I'd seen them so far was in the Swartsburg.

Out on the fringe of town, however,
the dead-seeming aura was much less, and the noise of life was well
under-way. I noticed a busy Public House, followed by a smaller
Mercantile, and the smithy I had noticed yesterday was smoking
markedly. The gray billows spoke of ample kindling.

“They've
lit the wood recently,” I said.

“What
time do you light yours?” asked Lukas.

“If I
do it, about half an hour before it starts to get light,” I said.
“Otherwise, I'm not certain. I doubt those people will start as
early if I'm not present.”

“They're
more likely to spend most of their days in that Public House,” said
Lukas. “I doubt they'll do much without you there.”

“Uh,
why?” I asked.

“Were I
like most,” he said, as the farrier's log signpost hove into view,
“I'd say it was because you weren't handy to tell them every little
thing to do so's to keep them out of trouble.” A brief pause, then
“it ain't that. I might not know much more, but I can say
it isn't what it looks like.”

“They've
thought me to be a witch more than once,” I muttered. “Does that
figure into it?”

“That
would be part of the common way of thinking, especially among
smiths,” said Lukas. “A fair number of smithies down this way do
a lot of business for coaches and those riding with them, and...”

Lukas paused in his speech and came
closer, then said, “that place you spoke of has a coach hid in the
back area.”

“Wonderful,”
I thought. “Either that place is under the control of those thugs,
or they just barged in and said 'fix me' with guns in their hands.”

“That
does sound likely,” said Lukas. “Now that farrier is up here
shortly, and... There's his sign. It's him.”

Pulling into the yard of the farrier
made for wondering if he was indeed open, for his door was still
closed, but once I'd dismounted, the door opened. He did a
double-take upon seeing me...

And did something I'd never seen done
here before when he saw Lukas.

While the two of them 'greeted each
other' – it involved a strange-looking 'fraternal' handshake,
followed by a close embrace – the rest of us began removing bags
and packs. For some reason, I had a peculiar idea regarding
'assembly-line work', and when Gilbertus asked me for my hoof-pick, I
gave it to him. I was even more surprised when the farrier handed me
what looked like a small pry-bar.

“I
suspect you can remove the shoes and nails,” he said, as he pointed
to the first horse. “It'll take less time that way.”

I did so under his watching gaze while
Gilbertus held the hoof. I pried gingerly, and as the shoe came
loose, the farrier nodded appreciatively.

“Good,
most of the nails are coming out with that one,” he said. “I'll
get the rest of them.”

I did the second hoof on the front
slightly quicker, then as an afterthought removed the remaining nails
with the pincers. I glanced at them and recalled not being able to
wipe them down fully, and once I'd finished hoof number two, I paused
to wipe them completely with an oily rag. I was glad there wasn't
any rust.

I wasn't sure who he was speaking to,
and as I resumed work on the left rear hoof, Lukas said, “that you
can get up north. I have some, and might spare a little if you have
a place to put it.”

“Talk had
it came from the fourth kingdom,” said the farrier, as he began to
'clean' the first hoof. “I didn't know it could be had up there.”

“It can
be, and most likely cheaper,” said Lukas. “You'll want to write
to Hans in Roos.”

“Ah,
him,” he said. “Now how did he get the secret for it?”

“From him
what's pulling the shoes,” said Lukas. I wanted to hide.

“Did he
get it from the fourth kingdom?” asked the farrier.

“He ain't
been down there yet, so I doubt it,” said Gilbertus. “I never
saw anyone do that this quick and neat, Markus excluded.”

“Markus?”
I asked.

“That
would be me,” said the farrier. “Were you to apprentice, I
suspect, it would take you very little time to learn the
business proper.”

“Proper?”
asked Lukas.

“He acts
like he's been around mules some,” said Markus. “Horses, unless
they be abused, are not inclined to kick.”

“M-mules?”
I gasped. I nearly said, “Genuine Mexican Plug” instead.

“That one
at the house should be gone before we return,” said Lukas. “If
it ain't, it'll eat some hot lead at my bequest.”

“You'll
want something that provides sizable doses if you do,” said the
farrier. He was on the third shoe, and I'd started on another horse.

“A
r-roer?” I asked.

“If you
can find one, I'd use it,” said Markus. “Mules are almost as bad
that way as swine.”

“What he
has stops pigs,” said Karl around something he was eating. “Do
you think it will burn today?”

“No worse
than it usually does,” said Markus. “Why, is some witch
hereabouts thinking to become an incendiary?”

“No, the
sun was red this morning,” said Karl. “That means it will burn.”

“Not
here,” said Markus. “If you saw it just as it came up, then
that's common.”

“Why is
that?” asked Karl.

“I'm not
terribly sure,” said Markus. “I suspect it's because of this
area to the west of the High Way a few miles where most of the
kingdom's important people live.”

“What are
they like?” asked Sepp. He was slurping down something of a liquid
nature.

“Most of
them wear black-cloth,” said Markus, “and if they don't run
coaches, they run these other fancy things that are like them.”

“That
sounds like the Swartsburg,” said Sepp.

“I've
never been more than about twenty miles north of here,” said
Markus, “but when I go, I want to know where that place you spoke
of is.”

“Why?”
asked Karl.

“I want
to stay well clear of it,” said Markus. “Even this
part of town has its share of trouble with witches.”

“Most of
the Swartsburg burned recently,” said Gilbertus, “so it's not
likely to be as troublesome as it was, at least for a while.”

“If it's
like that place over there” – here, Markus pointed to the west –
“it will be trouble until it is completely gone.”

With each horse's shoes done, Karl and
Sepp reloaded its burden, or so I thought until I glanced to see the
bags and other things carefully parceled up into smaller bags. I had
the impression that an even burden on the horses not being ridden
would make for faster travel, and once the horses were done – I
slipped Markus another gold piece, on top of what he'd gotten for the
work he did – I found that to be the case as we headed south.

“And now
we need to go along that one path,” I murmured, as we went down a
street that showed the beginnings of 'traffic' and open shops doing
business. The first right turn was up ahead.

The street we turned onto was still a
good deal less crowded than I recalled, but as we went west along it,
I smelled many of the odors I had smelled yesterday – and, once I'd
turned left onto the other cross-street, I heard a familiar sound.
The 'babies' seemed especially sick, and their tormented
'quo-wall' sounds made for shudders.

A screech-chorus interrupted Lukas,
and he spat – first, onto the roadway, and then an oath. “Like
those accursed things you just heard.”

“What
were those?” asked Karl.

“Squabs,”
said Lukas. “Do you believe me now that this place is like the
Swartsburg?”

Lukas' outburst did not merely silence
Karl's question, but seemed to put an impetus to our travel that was
previously not present, and once onto the main road, we picked up
speed slightly. I somehow doubted we would be leaving 'today', even
if I had a definite impression about tomorrow. Tomorrow sounded
uncommonly likely, for some reason, though 'when' tomorrow was a very
good question. Something would happen today – or, perhaps,
tonight. I'd heard 'two more days', and the manner of figuring made
for wondering.

“Two more
days, and then the third day?” I thought. There was no
answer, save the looming gate and the road beyond it.

There was a short line heading into
the gate which we passed at a 'rapid' walk, and I counted several
decrepit-looking buggies drawn by 'downtrodden-looking' horses.
These last seemed uncommonly dispirited, and when I looked into the
fields to right and left, I found further groups of people and
similar buggies. All of them were laboring steadily, yet there was
something missing – and another group of things added – compared
to the attitude of those who worked that way at home.

These people seemed to be expecting a
well-hid taskmaster to suddenly materialize with a whip, and then
lash them into bloody pulps because they weren't working as per that
being's inclination of the moment.

As if they were, in truth, well-hid
slaves.

The plausibility of the matter pounded
on my head. Slave-run pack trains hauling goods into the Swartsburg,
with the goal of each slavemaster proclaiming the superiority of his
'wares' while marching the true-step...

It was otherwise, I knew. In truth,
slavemasters considered slaves to be less than property – slaves
were extensions of their own minds, wills, and emotions, in fact,
such that all such beings thusly owned were perfect mirror
reflections – and could thereby be relied upon utterly to
unthinkingly obey the slightest whim of those in control without
hearing a shred of command or instruction. They knew what was
desired.

Failure to do so, of course, meant an
'uppity' slave, and gave the master an excuse to vent his sadism upon
his unresisting 'fool' for the pleasure of his whim and the joy of
slaughter.

The road and its dust jolted me clear
of such thinking as we came even with the rear of the house proper.
I looked up at the sun, then gasped.

“I thought the 'third hour'...”

“Is in roughly an hour's time,”
said the soft voice, “and as is common for most 'morning' meetings,
this one will be somewhat tardy.”

“Will they become irritated at
lateness?” I asked.

“Such that it shows markedly, not
really,” said the soft voice. “Besides, a fair percentage of
that group yesterday has been sipping uncorking medicine while
plotting how to avoid that 'fancy' refectory.”

“'Custom' demands consumption of
that food?” I asked.

“Recall that 'small handful' Hendrik
spoke of regarding 'conviction'?” I mentally nodded. “They
demanded such food be consumed, and hence, it was prepared.”

“Which reduces or eliminates
contributions from those not accustomed to its consumption,” I
muttered.

“More than that, actually,” said
the soft voice. “The goal was to effectively close down the series
of meetings and preserve the existing conditions in the house proper.
That disk has changed everything. What happens next,
however, will make the disk's effects seem as nothing.”

“Should I speak of plain food?” I
asked.

“You would be but adding your
request to a very long list,” said the soft voice, “with
Hendrik's name at the top of it. More-wholesome food has been
requested.”

“And sabotaged the same way, no
doubt,” I murmured.

“Which is why most of those not
inclined toward bad food have secured 'note-taking' satchels and
secreted bread and peppered dried meat in them.”

“Perhaps if I mention my, uh,
apprenticeship..?”

“You might speak that way if the
food is 'inedible',” said the soft voice. “The king isn't at all
happy with what happened last evening, and Hendrik spoke of your
'training'.”

“Did he eat any of that
stuff?” I asked.

“Much as you did,” said the soft
voice. “He spoke of being ill beforehand, and hence 'invalid food'
was reserved for him.”

“Unhappy about the food..?” I
asked.

“That and the injury that occurred,”
said the soft voice. “Those people were not supposed to be working
that late.”

“Does he know why?” I asked.

“He has suspicions,” said the soft
voice, “but no proof – and in this house, proof is needed
to proceed against witches.”

“What if one of them, uh, shows,
and he's spouting curses with a sword in his hand?”

“That is ample proof,” said
the soft voice, “at least for someone in your position.”

“Uh, position?” I asked.

“It goes further than what those
guards implied,” said the soft voice. “You were in that meeting,
and hence are one of the 'betters'; and your 'business' in town
speaks of 'responsibility' to the majority, and darker things to the
rest.”

We passed the gate to the house proper
without incident, and once the horses were looked over, we began
'portaging' our supplies indoors. I was carrying the uncorking
medicine, and as I came up the stairs, I spied one of our group some
distance away to the left.

“Uh, help?” I murmured softly.

I was surprised to see him 'jolted',
then run quickly and vanish, even as I turned back to the path to
where we were quartered. I could feel something untoward there,
something about a group waiting at our door.

“Why didn't they just go inside?”
I thought. “They have pass-keys, don't they?”

“They are afraid to do so,” said
the soft voice, “as they do not have your permission.”

“My permission?” I asked.

“Recall what you heard about one of
the party being thought an 'arch-witch'?” said the soft voice.
“About who wrecked the Swartsburg?”

“Do they think I did that?”
I thought.

“They know about the heads,” said
the soft voice, “as well as some of the first kingdom house's
gossip, and between that and what they saw last night, they not
merely think you to have wrecked that place, but also killed all of
the witches in it as well.”

I stopped in mid-sentence, and smelled
faintly the reek of distillate, and for some reason, I started seeing
all that I was doing in a strange fashion. There was nothing
of mystery in what I was doing; instead, it was a matter of
mastery, and that mingled with extreme cunning. All
that I did resonated with witchcraft to the utmost degree, and
everything that I touched was as cursed an object as could be had in
the five kingdoms.

“No, I don't want to be a witch,”
was all I could think and say.

My common-seeming clothing was more
potent than black-cloth embroidered with blood-red rune-curses, and
my speech was unspeakable, for all of it was a well-hid
curse-collection, and that proven by its difficulty of
pronunciation. My boots were more potent than any mere
weapon-sheathes, black or otherwise, and my writing...

“But that is not in the written
format,” I thought.

“That does not matter to
those who think according to what you just learned,” said the soft
voice. “Writing among witches is a good deal less
meaningful than Kees made it out to be, while few and rare
are the witches who can hide their curses in plain sight. Hence,
writing that presents an especially convincing case is thought
to have especially potent curses.”

“And my going into town?”

“Is thought purely a matter of
witchcraft among those people,” said the soft voice. “Of course
you had business in town – you had to pour out your curses to make
the place your property, then lead your slaves in to do your bidding,
and then curse the place for all time once you had satisfied your
inclination of the moment.”

“What?” I spat.

“Their beliefs,” said the soft
voice, “and hence their 'gifts'.”

The 'train' behind me had grown
noticeably during the conversation, and when I paused and turned, I
noted twelve people hurrying to catch up. I wondered as to their
significance until I heard Kees shout something unintelligible.

“Must you?” I thought, even as
Karl and Sepp passed me. I didn't need to hear shouting.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I think someone saw us coming
back,” said Sepp. “Now I hope those people don't get lost.”

“How did you avoid that trouble?”
I asked.

Sepp smiled, then said, “one of
those small lanterns, chalk, and a damp rag for the trip back.”

“So you could see?” I asked.

“That, and chalk shows up better
with a candle-flame,” said Sepp. “I bought another three sticks
in that first Mercantile, that and my own soap.”

“Soap?” I asked.

“We might need to wash our own
clothing,” said Sepp. “If not here, then the next house.
Gilbertus said the dust could eat you alive there, and clean clothing
was something you needed.”

As if to supply an answer, the first
of the twelve 'porters' came up, and I was surprised to see Gabriel
with a sack in his hands.

“I had no idea you did that,” he
said, as I fell in beside him. I wondered as to his meaning. “We
have keys to the baths, and arrangements with the laundry.”

“Where is the laundry?” I asked.
Our room was some distance yet; perhaps a hundred yards to the
corner, then further to the room itself.

“The south-east corner of the
building,” said Gabriel. “It runs day and night, with only the
first post of the day not covered, and there are rumors that one or
more people remain there then.”

“Uh, why?” I asked. “Too small
for the number of people in the house?”

“It is not that,” said
Gabriel. “I could find out little more than where it was and how
we could use it, and the same for the baths.”

“Are there other baths?” I asked.

“There are, but they are either
especially well hidden, or are reserved for certain persons,” said
Gabriel. “The ones I was told of are the preserve of students and
people like them.”

“Like them?” I asked.

“Special messengers, envoys, and
perhaps certain junior clerics,” said Gabriel. “Otherwise, it
seems most visitors are as we are, or as those who started that fight
last night.”

“Uh, better food?” I asked.

“They can have it,” said Gabriel.
“If I go in that place again, I plan on fetching the fowling piece
and my own food, thank you.”

Gabriel paused, then asked, “why is
it I smell distillate ahead?”

I searched my thoughts for a moment,
then said, “light-giving firebombs, unless I miss my guess.”

I turned the corner onto the long
passage, and ahead in the distance I saw a dark-shrouded group of
indeterminate number. Most of the candles that had been glimmering
faintly when we had left were now extinguished, and with the
occupancy of this region being those like us alone...

“That is not it,” I
thought. “Not if these people think I'm one step down from
Brimstone.”

The steps coming from behind me seemed
to form themselves into a steady 'tramp', much as if the 'porters'
had been drilled for months in synchronized stepping. I could hear
the boots being raised high and slammed down in the true-step, even
as my own boots...

I looked down, expecting to see
pointed black things, and saw merely what I commonly wore. I then
took a longer step, thereby altering the rhythm of the 'march'.

My aberration was copied precisely
by those behind me.

“What do these people think I am?”
I thought.

There was no answer, save precise
duplication of my every movement. Even my breathing was copied
precisely as to its depth and rate, and dread synchronization with
all of my actions was the byword.

Only then could slaves be fully
owned by their master.

Knowing this was a nightmare fastened
down upon further nightmares, for now all that I did was seen
as the actions of a witch. I felt trapped, and doomed, and only when
the stink of distillate grew especially strong did I think to look
ahead.

The group now numbered four, I saw
clearly, and their stiff and motionless standing at 'attention' made
for further nightmares atop what I was enduring. Their expectations
were legion, and...

“None of that matters?” I
thought. “I can do with them as I feel inclined, and speak what I
wish..?”

I then knew this to be true.
Peremptory behavior was the mark of the witch, and the four of them
stood motionless with their smelly burdens in their hands as I
reached for the door's knob.

The lock clicked at my touch, and I
flung wide the door to show a badly-lit room, while the long 'coffle'
of my slaves now true-stepped inside with feet lifted high and
slammed down in precise unison. The witches holding the lights
remained without, and I looked eye-to-eye at each of them fixedly.
None of them dared endure my gaze, and I then knew I had them
'controlled' fully as well.

When the coffle had gone in, I shouted
harshly the single word 'halt!' in dire clipped tones, then motioned
the four witches to march within. The first one raised high his
boot, then brought it down, and the others followed afterward in
precise choreographed perfection, until they came to the table, where
they laid down their cloth-wrapped burdens.

“Unwrap those,” I spat.

The four 'applied themselves' to their
burdens, and when the first of the 'firebombs' was ready, I motioned
the witch aside. I then touched the adjusting lever, felt the cold
chill of a full reservoir, and then snapped my fingers over the top.

The lamp blazed instantly into
brilliant light, and the thick black smoke of its burning began
billowing upward from its tall brass chimney.

The other witches now hurried their
duties as the first light began to pulsate, and I performed the same
duty upon each lantern as they finished. The smoke, smell, and soot
made a ghastly cloud that hung thickly all around, and the
emotionless masks of the witches looked at me, waiting for my
command. I noted the stiff brown cloth of misers, the mingled reeks
of strong drink, bad food, and unwashed bodies, and above all, their
utter and complete sameness of appearance. All of them were cut from
the same cloth, just like their clothing.

“The four of you, leave instantly,”
I spat. “I will deal with you fools later.”

The witches ran for the door in a
clumsy mob, banging and thumping as they struck each other with fists
and feet as they crowded the doorway, then the door banged shut once
the last of them had left.

I then turned down each lantern one by
one until the room was shrouded in darkness. I found a student's
lantern, and walked toward the privy among motionless stiff-as-stone
bag-holding 'statues'.

The candle I'd seen earlier in the day
was nearly out, and I used its meager guttering stub to light the
'full' candle in the lantern. As I did, I recalled the soot the
other things had billowed, then looked up at the ceiling.

“They must burn those things in here
with some frequency, if I go by that mess,” I muttered.

“No, not quite,” said the soft
voice. “Those four are the first such gifts in nearly two years.”

“Then those stinkers made all
of that soot?” I asked.

“They haven't cleaned the roof in a
very long time,” said the soft voice. “Too-tall ceilings
and a dire shortage of
tall-enough ladders doesn't help much.”

“At ease!” I yelled.

To my complete astonishment, all of
the porters 'relaxed', and I began retrieving bags. As I did so, I
churned over questions in my mind, until I came to Kees. I then
noticed his greasy face.

“Did you eat bad food again?” I
spat. “If you did, get in the privy and don't come out until you
are no longer corked!”

Kees ran stiff-stumbling for the
privy, where seconds later I heard grunts and moans amid
rapidly-increasing stink.

“I have no idea as to what it will
take to teach you people that I am not a witch,” I spat, “so all
I can do is order those not of my, uh, party to leave in an
orderly fashion when I tell you to.”

I retrieved all of the bags, then told
the 'porters' to leave. They did so as they had come in, with boots
lifted high in the true-step and a long line forming a 'coffle'.
Once the door was closed again, I spoke to those of our group not in
the privy.

“Wake up!” I spat.

The gasps and goggling eyes, as well
as the yawns, made for marveling on my part, and when I'd lit the
second of the three student's lanterns, I heard a question. I was
working on lantern number three when I answered.

“Why are those lanterns in here, you
ask?” I stated clearly as an answer. “Some 'important' people in
this house think me to be an especially nasty and dangerous witch.
Hence, they 'served' me with my 'due'.” I paused, then said, “and
those things are about due for an accident.”

As if to remind me of the intrinsic
nature of light-giving firebombs, a shuddering boom came from
upstairs that sifted dust down upon my head. It also awoke entirely
those still standing.

“Where's Kees?” asked Gabriel.
“What are those lanterns doing here?”

“Kees is in the privy,” I said.
“He still has a substantial appetite for the food of witches, it
seems, and... Is all that he did to 'repent' a sham?”

“An attempt at manipulation by
feeding him 'specially',” said the soft voice. “Gabriel and
Hendrik were too busy to be found, unlike Kees.”

“And cursed food has a substantial
'hold' upon him still?” I asked. “Or is it more than merely
food?”

“He gets ridden easy,” said Lukas,
“and I thought I was not as easy to ride as that was.”

“If there is one individual like
that in a group,” I murmured, “it seems to affect everyone else
to a lesser or greater degree.” I again smelled the distillate of
the lanterns, and retched.

“How did those get here?” asked
Gilbertus.

“They were brought by witches,” I
said. “I'm not certain what the rules are in here about
light-giving incendiary smudge-pots, but...”

The door tapped, and in came Hendrik,
followed by another individual who took me seconds to recognize as
one of those who had been at the meeting yesterday evening.

“Now who brought those?” spat the
visitor. “Those things are good for trouble, and nothing but.”

“Four witches were waiting for me
outside the door,” I said deadpan, “and...” I paused, then
asked, “do you think I'm a witch?”

The man seemed taken aback. He looked
at Hendrik, who shook his head slowly.

“I don't know you that well,” he
said. “If he says you're not, then you're not.”

“Then how did you light those things
like you did?” asked Kees from the other direction

Our visitor turned to Kees, then me
before he said, “now if I had to pick a witch from among
those here, I'd pick that man there over you.”

“Uh, why?” I asked.

“He was here a fair amount during
his traipsing, and he was asking a lot of questions,” said our
visitor. “While students usually do that, they don't ask
questions of that nature.”

“If they go to the west school, you
mean,” said Hendrik. “He didn't.”

“Which one did he go to, then?”
asked the visitor. “Boermaas?”

“No, he did not go there,” said
Hendrik. “He had an offer from here prior to his finishing, and he
came up to the first kingdom instead.”

“And that offer was
a decent one,” I said.

The visitor looked at me, then nodded.
“Those Generals were the ones making it, unless I miss my guess.
They tend to do most of that type of hiring.” He paused, then “now
what is this with lighting those?”

“He made this noise with his hand
above the chimney,” said Kees, “and they lit, each of them in
turn.”

I went toward one of the lanterns,
picked it up – and promptly set the thing back down as I began
hunting for a rag. Only dousing the rag with aquavit and scrubbing
vigorously helped get the tormenting sensation off of my hands.

“Those things are cursed,” said
our visitor. “Is that it?”

“With him, perhaps,” said Hendrik,
“though I have heard certain sensations are tormenting on his
hands.”

“L-like lard,” I gasped. “Those
things are coated with lard, and... Kees! They fed you pork!
Back in the privy until that rubbish comes out!”

Kees was about to reply, but he
doubled up retching and nearly collapsed as his trousers acquired
brown stains in a great hurry. I then turned and looked at the door.
Seconds later, there was another tap.

I went to open the door, and when I
moved it aside, one of the 'pages' showed. He spoke of it being the
third hour – and then, to his side someone outside said, “best
figure on two more turns of the glass before showing. Some of those
people had a fire in their room, Johan.”

“Fire?” I asked.

“One of those lanterns they prefer
became angry with them,” said the second voice, “and it showed
them its anger by setting them alight. Several of them were burned
and had their clothing ruined.”

“Was this clothing, uh, dark brown
and stiff?” I asked.

“For several of them, yes,” said
the second voice as it came closer. “The others wore
black-cloth...”

And here, the speaker came to where I
was standing and looked closely at me.

“Why aren't you wearing that
kind of clothing?” he asked.

“Because I'm not a witch,”
I said. “Does everyone say I am?”

“Those that are betters do,
especially if they dress fancy,” he said. “Most commons believe
what their betters say.”

“Because they say it,
correct, not because it's been tested to find out if it's
right or not?” I said.

He nodded solemnly.

“That way will have you believing
lies,” I said. “Test everything...”

The two of them looked at me with
widened eyes, then the first 'page' said, “they were lying to us,
Gijs. Witches don't go to church, and they don't speak
of sermons, and he just did.”

“Good,” I said. “Now spread
that rumor, because it's the truth.” I paused, then said,
“and four of those stinky things were delivered here. Do you know
where I can dispose of them safely?”

Neither 'page' had an understanding of
the matter, and after they left, I thought briefly. For some reason,
I thought it wise to 'jug' the lanterns' distillate.

“Do we have a spare jug?” I asked,
as we began unpacking the morning's supplies.

“I might fetch one for you,” said
our visitor. “What is it you want it for?”

“Draining those stinky things so
they aren't a fire hazard,” I said, “and then, perhaps, carrying
the distillate with us. It might come in handy later.”

“Yes, for starting campfires,”
said Karl. “I've heard it is good for that.”

Sepp shook his head, then resumed
looking in his bag.

Our visitor left shortly thereafter,
and within perhaps twenty minutes, he returned with not merely
another person dressed similarly, but also a wheeled cart. This last
proved to have bread, peppered dried meat, cheese spread, and cherry
jam, and those of us not busy packing our 'victuals' found pieces of
what had been supplied. For some reason, I thought to ask about
eggs.

“Those tend to be very scarce
in this area,” said our initial visitor. “Why?”

“That other refectory had those as
part of its first course,” said Hendrik, “and he found some. I
suspect he found the only food that wasn't High on that table.”

“There are High eggs,” said
our visitor, “but hiding them is nearly impossible, unlike most
High Meats.”

“R-rotten eggs?” I gasped.

He nodded, then said, “they are not
good to eat when they smell.”

“Then, there was this red sauce...”

“Did it attempt to set your mouth
alight?” he asked.

I nodded, then said, “it helps with
nausea.”

“That we do have, and I can see
about it being brought here,” he said. “Hendrik said you were
ill, and that might help somewhat.”

Kees needed to fetch clean clothing
before we went to the meeting, or so I suspected when Hendrik made
ready to go, but when Gabriel gathered the documents, he said, “he's
still making a stinky mess in there. He may need to remain here for
the first portion.”

“First portion?” I asked.

“That would be from the start until
roughly lunchtime,” said Gabriel. “I suspect he will not be the
only person still indisposed.”

“That, and he is out of clean
clothing,” said Hendrik. “We'll need to attend to clothing later
today.”

The meeting-room proper proved to be
empty of all save a few when we came, and I fetched unfermented
drinks for the three of us. I thought to ask for 'cold' while
handling the 'flagons', and when Hendrik sipped his grape juice, he
shuddered briefly before speaking.

“What happened to this stuff?” he
asked.

“I asked for it to become colder,”
I said. “Why, is it different?”

“It's cold enough to give a headache
if consumed rapidly,” said Hendrik.

“Perhaps less chilly, then,” I
asked. “Now where...”

I stopped in mid-sentence, for the
king filed in, followed by over a dozen people. These individuals to
a man looked more than a little ill, and when one of them stood and
moved rapidly towards the door leading to the privy, the king looked
about aimlessly with a jaundiced eye. He then stood and moved toward
us.

“I'll not have bad food served in
here again,” he murmured, “as it wasn't just you people it put in
the privy. The only people that didn't spend most of the night there
set fire to their rooms earlier today.”

“What do you know about
distillate-fueled lanterns?” I asked.

“They are said to be brighter,” he
said. “Beyond that, I am not sure. I've never used them.”

“It is good that you do not,” said
Hendrik. “All three of us know of their tendencies toward fires,
and him most of all.”

“Have you used them?” he
asked.

“I have, but not as light
sources,” I said.

“How, then?”

“I once tossed one in a place
a witch had cursed and thereby deeded to Brimstone,” I said, “and
I heartily wished I had not done so when the explosion tossed me.”

“Then I wish no part of such
lanterns,” he said.

“There were four of those stinky
things delivered this morning by, uh, people wearing this stiff dark
brown clothing,” I said. “Do you know where I might dispose of
them?”

“Beyond sell them in town, I'm not
sure,” he said. “If they were delivered by people like you
speak, then it is probable they would sell readily at high prices.”

“Those people?” I asked.

“Are commonly very wealthy,” he
said. “Beyond that, I am unsure as to their motives, even if I am
quite sure as to the importance of what you have to present.”

Once the king had retaken his seat, I
whispered to Gabriel, “he isn't one to trust much, is he?”

Gabriel nodded, then began arranging
his documents. Hendrik had left, and when he returned, I noted the
odor that had returned with him.

“I wish I had one of those copper
vessels like you have,” he said. “I'd fill it with uncorking
medicine and sip from it.”

“Still feel corked?”

“Less than this morning,” said
Hendrik, “but I'm still feeling corked to a degree.”

Gabriel betrayed himself to be
similarly indisposed but minutes later, and once he'd returned, I
looked over the room to see several more persons had entered. One of
them was the 'announcer', and a few minutes more had this individual
give a short 'address' in the manner he had done so prior –
complete to 'waxing sore and heavy' and 'giving proofs, and answering
rightly'.

“Answering truthfully, or telling
one's questioners what they wish to hear?” I thought, as Hendrik
'took the stand'. There was no answer.

While there was no answer regarding
what the itching ears of those around me wanted to hear, there
were answers regarding 'muskets', and here, I 'showed' first my
rifle, then the pistol. The 'poor' finish on the latter I explained
by saying it was 'an experiment', and I followed this statement by
“I'm trying hard to find this formula used in the fourth kingdom,
and so far, I have some likely leads.”

“Does this formula give a dark
bluish-black color?” asked one of the men on the left side of the
table. He seemed interested.

“Supposedly it does,” I said.
“Most importantly, that coloring can easily be made
non-reflective...” The murmuring that ensued on both sides of the
table was enough to make for wondering, as seconds later I heard
first one 'polemic' about the need for mirror-polished
weapons, then another. While these polemics were more 'polite' than
the outbursts I had heard the day before, they were just as
ill-reasoned.

“What, don't animals notice shiny
things and run off when you are hunting with such weapons?” I
asked.

“They never did that with me,”
said one of the arguers.

“What did you use?” I asked.

“A good fowling piece from the
fourth kingdom,” he said.

“Those are darkened like he spoke
of,” said Hendrik, “and while those coloring them seldom speak of
why they do so, I have wondered for many years.”

I could not 'prove' matters, or so I
thought, and I was about to sit down when the local king indicated he
wished a 'demonstration'. I looked at Hendrik, who was of no help,
and then went to this other man.

“What would you wish to see, sir?”
I asked.

“How your equipment works,” he
said softly. “I suspect you may be correct about animals noticing
shiny objects, as few people wear anything that stands out while in
the fields or forests.”

“And if animals notice shiny
objects...” I murmured softly, while putting my things at an open
space in the table.

“Do swine?” asked someone else.

“Those pigs tend to notice anything
out of the ordinary,” I said, “so what concealment that can be
done is very important.” I paused, then said, “and,
finally, 'bright-metal' finishes tend to show rust readily.”

“That... That may be for the best,
then,” said one of the polemic-issuers. “Shiny or not, weapons
need to work. They're worthless otherwise.”

My 'demonstration' was brief and to
the point, as I had but little idea beyond 'I do not know the manual
of arms, and they don't do that in the first kingdom anyway' and
'this weapon thumps people badly if it's fired in a confined space'.

After reassembling both pistol and
rifle, I had more questions to answer, chiefly as to why I was able
to do so so quickly. I indicated the barrel bands for the rifle, as
well as its fitting, and with the pistol, I showed the finish on the
internal parts. The temper-colors seemed to stand out especially
well.

“I've wondered about your tools,”
said a man who I had seen yesterday. He'd been silent then, and now
assayed making up for it. “None of them shine. Why?”

“Part of that is the colors help
tell me if a tool needs especial care in handling or not,” I said,
“and then, it helps with organization, and finally, I'm reassured
by seeing those colors.”

“How?” asked this man.

“With a mirror-polished tool, the
thing can either be too soft to use, like many of mine were when I
first received them, or too brittle to use safely,” I said. “If
I see a turnscrew that's a nice medium blue, then I know it
was tempered such that it will stand up to some prying. My
drill-bits barely show any color, and they tend to be
brittle.”

“You mean the shiny surface might
hide mistakes?” said one of my 'accusers'.

“Come to think of it, it just might
do that,” I said. “I want tools that work good. I have ample
trouble otherwise.”

A short time of further discussion
about weapons, that one boring person showed, he spoke at some
length, and we were dismissed 'until the eighth hour'.

“Laundry,” I thought, as I
gathered my supplies. “I need to check that.”

While I went straight back to our
room, Gabriel and Hendrik went to the largest refectory, and I had
just finished transferring the last lantern's distillate into a jug
when they returned. The lanterns went on the floor in a corner after
I finished them.

“What happened with Kees?” asked
Hendrik, as he brought in a second 'serving table'.

“He only comes out for more
uncorking medicine,” said Karl, “and then he goes back in there
to make more noise and stink.”

“He ate swine's flesh,” said Sepp,
“as I've smelled it before, and I've smelled it on him since the
three of you left.”

As Gabriel and I went in search of the
laundry, I recalled from long in the past a threesome of books I had
read many times. My thinking was this: “first, those people from
Norden and what they speak, then that silver disk, and now we are
going to the laundry in a place that f-feels like that underground
place where those dwarves once lived.”

Such thinking made for wondering, and
I almost ducked at an intersection, for I had suspected the presence
of that one large fire-spirit that had showed in the council chamber.
I did not wish to run into it.

“Are there such things as elves?”
I asked softly.

“Neither tapestries nor Grim mention
such beings,” said Gabriel. “Such as you are mentioned many
times. Why”

“This trip reminds me of a story
I've read many times,” I said, “what with traveling, and danger,
and strange, uh, creatures, and nonsense in, uh, Public Houses...”

“You may wish to write that story
down later,” said Gabriel. “It sounds like it would fit well in
the Grim Collection.”

'The southeast corner', while it
sounded descriptive enough, was not at all 'accurate', and once in
that general region, I needed to actually find where the
laundry was. I went down one hallway where I thought it was possible
to reach the place, then stopped in mid-stride and reversed.

“What happened?” asked Gabriel.

“We need to go in the other end of
that place,” I said. “That entrance is, uh, blocked.”

I went to the next hallway, and here I
passed several closed doors before I came to the correct one:
doubled, unmarked save by age, a dim-burning tallow candle in a
'sconce' to its right, a somewhat foul odor, and a feeling of
moisture unlike almost every other place in the house proper. I
tapped, and rapid steps came to open the door.

The chief difference between clothing
as done at where I lived and at this location proved to be one of
volume, for the methods I saw in use were identical, and the
supplies, too close to what I recalled to tell them apart. In the
left corner as one stood just inside the door, there were 'laundry
carts' with tall sticks standing head-high in the middle and
crossbars joining them, while closer to where we stood were stacks of
'laundry sacks' tied closed and labeled with tin or brass tags. Just
ahead were long iron ovens heating pots of water, while tubs lay next
to the stoves, and to our right were several long thin wooden pieces
padded by folded cloths. To their right lay more ovens, and to the
very rear, I saw an old-looking iron-bound door. There were no
people handy, and I wondered about the door enough to try opening it.

I had found the drier, and I
briefly stepped inside the room.

The tall-ceiling stone-walled room
showed two rows of what resembled wagon wheels running its length to
each side of where I stood, with a sizable 'oven' of bronze sitting
atop a stone plinth front-and-center. This last had a smokestack of
bronze heading up into an obvious chimney, and when I looked up, I
noted an obvious size disparity. I wondered for a moment as to why a
six-inch smokestack was working into a much larger chimney when I
felt the nearest hanging trousers. I noticed their growing dryness
amid the warmth of the room.

“That makes for airflow,” I
thought, “and these will dry quicker.”

I then saw the hangers hanging on the
spokes of the wagon wheels. They were much like those I had seen
elsewhere, and when I turned the wheel, I noticed its ready turning.
I turned to go, and then smelled the place.

“Dampened woodsmoke,” I thought,
“with a lot of warm fresh air.”

The steamy atmosphere of the main room
became more apparent when I returned to it, and I saw we were no
longer alone. A short and somewhat thin woman of 'middle age' was
speaking with Gabriel, while I heard other younger voices coming
nearer. I reached for my money pouch, then brought it out. I
thought to help this woman, and laid three of the larger silver
pieces next to her.

“What is this for?” she asked.

“I don't much care for laundry,” I
said, “and I have trouble doing it. This might help some.”

Once back at the room, I found I had a
'loaded' plate waiting for me, as did Gabriel, and once I'd eaten,
Karl asked me about locks opening at my touch.

“I'm not sure how that
works,” I said, “but given my trouble with losing keys...”

Karl laughed, then said, “so that is
why you do that.”

“It is much more than that, Karl,”
said Gabriel. “If you lost that much, and that often, it would be
very hard to keep your face straight in that place. We might
tolerate such behavior, especially given what else he does, but
there? That's thought worse than being a witch is here.”

Gabriel paused, then said, “were you
to go there and fetch ten people at random, it is likely that all of
them would be witches, and of a hundred, more than ninety would be
witches for certain – and that in the nicer areas.”

“What is this place?” murmured
Karl morosely. “It must be hell itself to have so many witches.”

“There are many places there that
imitate hell quite well for behavior, if not much else,” said
Gabriel, “and in those places, finding but ten who are not as the
most evil witches imaginable is impossible. Those cities like that
are very large, but there are larger ones...”

Here, Gabriel paused, squinted his
eyes, then covered them with his hands.

“One especially large and evil city
is called 'The City of Evil Spirits', and it is a jungle
walled with tall stone towers and streets filled with wagons that ram
each other in a frenzy of rage. Those there are a people so vicious
that they make those that run with the swine seem sober, calm, and
pleasant.”

Our meals eaten – Kees could only
consume uncorking medicine, and the noise and stink indicated he was
still 'popping corks' – the three of us went back to the meeting
chamber. I noticed the others were occupying themselves with stowing
supplies and cleaning guns, and I checked over the leather pieces
Karl had mentioned. I did not have time to get either holster
started, unfortunately.

The 'afternoon' meeting had close to a
full complement of people, and here, 'strategy' was 'debated' at
first. I seemed to hear little audibly beyond 'everyone knows what
can be done, which isn't much until those people show', followed by
'it's taken centuries to learn what works, even if it works poorly
much of the time'. I knew all that was being said was
entirely bogus, and that was purely for the 'audible' portions.
Those 'inaudible' parts I heard were more enlightening, if less
inspiring.

The first portion I heard was 'this is
not our problem', followed by 'you have no proof of anything
beyond a few samples that interest me', and the third – and
most-damning portion – that being, 'if you are proper witches, then
you have nothing to fear save from those who wish to take what you
now have. Send them to hell as per your inclination of the moment,
and be done with them'.

“What can be said to these people?”
I whispered in Gabriel's ear. “They are blind and deaf to their
danger.”

“Beyond what we have said, not
much,” said Gabriel. “I still do not understand what I said
about that place I named the city of evil spirits, and about these
matters, less yet.”

Hendrik turned to me, then said
softly, “this is one of the chief issues – no one has any
ideas that aren't hundreds of years old.”

Hendrik paused, then said, “except
you.”

“And if I speak?” I asked quietly.
My voice was now less than a whisper.

Clear as a bell, I heard the soft
voice speak: “if you speak now, you will not be heard.”

“Then when..?”

The sense I had was at first a sinking
one, then hot on its heels was what I had been told to expect prior
to leaving – and following that was a sense of something so vast
that I could scarce comprehend it beyond 'those that do not listen
then will only listen to Brimstone'.

The meeting adjourned earlier than I
expected it would, with the 'boring person' dragging on at length
with his spoken version of 'the worst' of the written format. He was
trying to put as many instances of 'ye' in his spiel as he could, and
his style and pronunciation showed his labor. While the meeting
seemed a failure, I felt strangely buoyed up, as if the obvious was
but the seeming, and the change would be heart-stopping upon the
morrow.

It would also turn the second kingdom
onto its head, and vanquish most of our worries regarding the
rest of them.